Outrunning Karma
by Anjelle
Summary: Kakashi was 42 and the world ended in a sea of smoke and ash. Kakashi was 42 and there stood a man in the carnage as the village burned around them. Kakashi is 19 and the world ends tomorrow, and he will do everything he can to make it right. Even if it means making friends of his enemies. Even if it means erasing everything. Kakashi is 19, Naruto is 5, and there is still time.
1. Prologue

**So this is my first venture into a pretty big, multi-story series. It started with a conversation I had with my wife after watching Road to Ninja that got me thinking of Menma, the alternate version of Naruto, and how underutilized he was. This story is not about THAT Menma, but thoughts about that kinda morphed into an unrelated story, and this is the result. If the universe interests you there will also be a fic called The Story of Menma coming in the future that's pretty much a prequel to this one.**

 **Fair warning that this story NOT canon compliant. There's plot divergence, yes, and a lot of it. But there're also a lot of things that don't fit with canon at all, examples being that Obito's sharingan degrades with usage like other** **sharingan, and that the effects of the nine-tails sealed within Naruto are more extensive than what's seen in canon. Having the nine-tails from birth has a lasting effect on him. Also, the timeline has been mostly rewritten. Kakashi was in ANBU most of his life, people who died are alive and people who are alive are dead etc. There are more, a lot more, but that's all you really need to know right now. Don't be surprised if something doesn't line up with canon, because there will be a loooot of things that don't**.

* * *

The matron was a woman of smiles and compliance. She greeted him as such, her hands clasped before her, the glasses askew upon the bridge of her nose. He tried not to slouch when her eyes fell to him, but long-standing habits were hard to break.

"Kakashi Hatake," she surmised, her voice short and sweet. Then there was a hand held out to him in offering, one that he didn't take, one that he didn't _think_ to take, and it hung there awkwardly before the matron pulled it back and adjusted. The smile was still there, strained and unimpressed. He knew that he should be trying to make a good impression but doubted that it would matter in the end, that it mattered to anyone whether he made a good caretaker or not. "We were expecting you. Lord Third informed us of your interest in one of our children."

"Did he, now?" He knew. Of course he knew. Without approval from the Hokage, this visit would have been meaningless.

They wouldn't give up the jinchuuriki boy to just anyone.

With careful niceties and practiced charm, the woman drew a path through the long halls of the orphanage with Kakashi in tow, a hand shoved into his pocket, his fingers turning and twisting the metal ring of the kunai hidden within. Old age made him paranoid. Perhaps that was another habit better left buried in another time. But, well, habits _were_ hard to break, harder still when they came from a place of desperation.

He wouldn't use it, he told himself. He would see that boy for himself, would see and wait to judge.

Konoha Orphanage was a short two stories tall, all aged wood and dusty windows. The orphanage received quarterly funding through the Hokage so there was little excuse for the lack of updates on the building, but he didn't doubt that a huge portion of those funds went to staffing and food. There was a leak in the corner at the far end of the wall, a bucket half-filled resting below it. The matron brought no attention to it and he didn't ask; he wasn't there to be critical. He was there for a reason.

As his eyes wandered from corner to corner and wall to wall, Kakashi couldn't help but think that this was a fitting start for his most hated person, that the stale air and creaking floorboards and implacable smell of age set the stage for the atrocities to come, a cautionary tale of long-standing tragedy. Or maybe he was thinking too hard. He tended to do that in old age.

He couldn't use age as an excuse. Not anymore.

"I find it the smallest bit… _unusual_ that you've taken interest now, of all times," the Matron hedged, wringing her hands together. Her smile was tight but still present, so he gave her points for trying.

"That so?"

"There is nothing _wrong_ with it, of course," she assured, and he could see her mental backpedalling. "But the Uzumaki boy is weeks away from his fifth birthday. Lord Third intended to remove him from the program and place him in a home of his own."

' _On_ his own,' Kakashi corrected internally. It was a bitter reminder of a past he lived, alone in that small apartment. Even if it was the Uzumaki boy, it didn't sit well. He understood; no one wanted to be within ten feet of that damnable fox, not even his caretakers. Rumors spread like a virus in places like that; there was no doubt that the secret of the Uzumaki boy's identity was common knowledge by the time the kid was two weeks old, gag order be damned. People feared him. They had every right to. And they wanted him gone.

Well, he _would_ be gone. One way or another.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now," said the matron, her heels clacking a rhythm against the wood as she walked. "What matters is that you're here now. We'll get Uzumaki in to see you shortly."

"Good."

Kakashi's dull eye strayed from the hall to the long line of windows on his right, framing the grassy play area outside. The older children were out playing in that way children did, with the running and the throwing of both safe and unsafe objects. There were toys, sure, but he saw one boy throwing a rusted, wartime shuriken. He thought better of mentioning it to the matron; he wanted in and out of there as quick as possible, not to make a scene, so much so that weeks prior to this visit he considered donning his ANBU uniform and breaking in to be an acceptable course of action before a long talk with the Hokage about just how horribly, stupidly, terribly _wrong_ that idea was made him change his mind. Plus, he was sure one of the supervising staff would notice soon-the kid was _throwing it at other small children_ -and sure enough a woman with her hair in a bun and an ankle-length skirt came flailing out from behind the wall.

Well, it was bound to happen; this land was a battleground in the last war, and it was inevitable that now and then a few relics of the past would be uncovered by the curiously sticky and unreasonably stupid hands of the little hellions they were raising there.

Point-blank, Kakashi did not like children. This was the last place he wanted to be. It was the last place he would _ever_ be, but there he was, because the world had ended and he was out of options.

His steps faltered when, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of yellow crossed his path. He straightened his back and inclined his head towards the image of blond hair darting about the wildgrass like a hunter on the prowl. The small body squirmed on all fours, pressed close to the ground, wriggling in place.

All Kakashi could see was the fox, its nine tails flicking and twitching and crushing the village beneath a strength that could level mountains.

But there was no fox, just a small boy with gangly arms and unruly hair and a grin on his face.

The boy bounded forth and pounced at the shuriken-wielding menace who had taken to running from their supervisor. The boys rolled, grass and weeds and flowers crushed beneath their path, until the shuriken brat was pinned beneath the fox hell-child with his arms at his sides and horror in his eyes. His grip faltered, the rusted weapon slipping out of his hold and into the dirt.

Uzumaki grinned and snatched the shuriken up. He bounced to his feet with a bubble of excitement, spun on his heel, and presented the weapon to the frantic woman who'd been trying to break the boys up for the past ninety seconds.

She ripped it out of his hands. Kakashi couldn't hear, but he thought she yelled. If the way the fox brat shrivelled up was any indication, she yelled. He was the one in trouble. He was the one at fault.

Well, Kakashi couldn't say that he cared.

"Mr. Hatake?"

A lazy eye found the matron waiting at an open door and his steps started up again. He sighed, stepping through the threshold. The room was small and quaint. There were toys scattered about, crude crayon pictures on the wall, and in the centre was a small table with two chairs. The walls were painted with childish colours and he was in hell. This was actually hell. He died as an old man of forty-two and this was actual hell.

None of that showed on his face as he dropped onto one of the chairs and looked up at the woman with a lazy eye, waiting, expectant.

She hesitated under his stare and looked out into the hall. "I'll—" She cleared her throat. "Little Uzumaki should be outside playing. I'll get him ready. He's been so excited to meet you-this is the first time anyone has considered him for adoption, you see."

He did see. He saw how fake her sincerity was and how far she had to reach for words of sympathy. It didn't matter. Soon the boy would be Kakashi's problem, not theirs. Then _he_ could worry about faking sympathy.

When he didn't say anything, the matron fidgeted and scuttled away.

Kakashi closed his eye, tipped his head heavenward, and sighed. He lifted a hand to brush across the headband covering his sharingan. "I'm doing this for you," he muttered softly. "To clean up your mess. Save me a seat in hell, old friend."

There was a window to his left. He opened his eye and lulled his head to the side. The world was all blue skies and sunshine and fluffy clouds like the objectively atrocious crayon art that the staff thought worthy of showcase on the walls.

He couldn't get out of there fast enough.

"Um—"

Kakashi stilled. The voice was small and squeaky, unused. He lifted his head to find a small boy barely knee-height looming in the doorway. The moment Kakashi looked, the boy ducked his head, stubby fingers gripped tightly to the hem of an oversized white shirt.

Behind the boy, the matron ushered him into the room, over to the table. She crouched down next to him with a plastic smile. "Naruto, this is Kakashi Hatake. Say 'hello.'"

Blue eyes flickered up and then back down. There was fidgeting, an old shoe scuffing the floorboards. Twisting.

When Kakashi thought about meeting the child that ruined the future, this was not what he was expecting.

There was still no greeting and Kakashi exchanged looks with the matron. His eye crinkled into an easy, practiced smile.

"Why don't you leave us to get acquainted? I'm sure Naruto here is just a little shy."

"But—" She held her tongue on her protests with a glance to the blond runt and stepped back. "Of course. If you need anything, my office is right next door."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The door shut with a soft click and they were alone.

Legally speaking, there was a lot wrong with this picture. Were it any other child, Kakashi knew that the whole visit would be supervised. Of course, this was the fox brat, the Uzumaki boy, the one that the staff wanted to get the hell out of there by any means necessary. If it meant pleasing the man intent on taking the fox child away, they would go to any lengths.

Naruto looked back at the door, large eyes blinking in confusion, and then he twisted back around to turn that confusion on Kakashi.

The last time their eyes met, Kakashi was forty-two years old. It was raining, a constant hiss enveloping them like white noise within a grey and broken world. Across the valley stood a masked man encased within a corrosive red chakra, tapering out into nine tails behind him, something innately inhuman about the way he stood and moved. The wind carried with it smoke and pine, the air thick with the overpowering scent of sulphur. The image was burned into the fading vision of his sharingan, his soon-blind eye, a permanent afterimage behind the cover of his headband.

Now their eyes met again and Kakashi was nineteen, and _he_ wasn't quite five, all small and jumpy like a stray cat.

"Um," the child said again, twisting the toe of his shoe into the floor, tweaking the fabric of his shirt between his fingers. "Are you gonna be like, my dad or somethin'?"

There was something very wrong with this picture and Kakashi sucked in a steadying breath. "Well," he started, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, "I'm something."

Naruto's eyes lit up. The unsteady frown curled upward and he pulled the empty chair out from under the table and scrabbled onto it. He bent his legs beneath his body to give himself more height-though even with that, he looked small-and placed his hands firmly on the table top. He stared openly, first at Kakashi's headband and mask, then down to the standard uniform he came dressed in-because he wasn't wasting money on a new outfit just for this.

"Hey hey," Naruto's fingers drummed a rhythm into the wood and he scooted closer to the edge of his seat. "Are you a ninja?"

Kakashi's mouth twitched and he was grateful to his mask for hiding away his hard-set frown. So the kid was already interested in ninjas. He wanted to _be_ a ninja. He entered the academy. From there, he renounced his name and his village and then he was gone. Then his face was in the bingo books. A missing-nin. _Konoha's_ missing-nin.

Then a grey world and smoke and pine and red chakra.

Kakashi couldn't fake a smile. "Yes, Naruto. I'm a ninja." He was still ANBU at that point. Reliving old missions was a complicated feeling. During the first week, there was a part of him that worried that his prior knowledge would change something. By week two, he realized how foolish his concerns were; he was there _to_ change things.

He would keep his promise. He would right Obito's mistakes.

He would give the fox child one last chance in memory of Minato and if that didn't work, he would kill the boy where he stood. He owed Minato that much, at least, for believing in him.

Naruto's hands slammed down on the table and Kakashi's went for the kunai in his pocket. The boy sprang up with a bolt of newfound energy, wobbling atop the rickety old chair with starlight in his eyes and wonder on his face. "That's so _cool_!"

Kakashi stilled, slowly releasing the kunai.

Naruto leaned in further and almost fell forward, righting himself at the very last second with a poorly repressed giggle. "You gotta know lots an' lots of awesome jutsu. Hey hey hey-when you adopt me, are you gonna teach me? You _gotta_."

Kakashi leaned back in the chair and considered the child with a lazy, upfront glare. The last thing he ever wanted was to be responsible for the fox child figuring out how to _ninja_. "I—"

"You gotta _promise_ ," said Naruto, matter-of-factly with his hands on his hips. He nodded, agreeing with himself. "Okay. You're good. You can adopt me."

He blinked slowly, trying to unravel what just happened.

"Can we go now?"

"It doesn't work like that," Kakashi said bluntly. His shoulders slouched and he decided to roll with the flow and not think too much about the inner workings of a not-quite-five-year-old's mind.

Naruto pouted and plopped back down onto his butt. "Well okay. But soon?"

Was it really that easy to win over a child?

"Sure," he said noncommittally. "When I can."

Naruto lit up and scooted off the chair. He rounded the table and held out his hand. "My name's Naruto Uzumaki, an' I'm gonna be the Hokage!"

Kakashi's eye widened.

This boy. This hellspawn. This jinchuuriki of the nine-tailed fox, this embodiment of everything that would go wrong.

Hokage.

What a cruel joke.

Kakashi breathed. It took a lot for him to reach out, it took his everything to accept the hand, to take it in his own with its stubby fingers and unmarred skin, but he did it. He did it for the future, for everyone that he left behind and everything that he would erase. That hand was so small, dwarfed by his own, and he couldn't help but stare. One day that hand would destroy the village. One day, if Kakashi failed, he would relive the worst day of his life.

Today was not that day. Today, Kakashi was nineteen years old and making a change. To fight for that change he would bite back his bias, bury away his contempt, and smile.

"I'd like to see that."

* * *

 **I'd love to hear what you guys think! I decided to post the prologue for the holidays, but there will be a delay in uploading the rest as I'll be posting the next chapter with chapter 1 of The Story of Menma once Calamity's a little further in. Happy holidays and enjoy yourselves!**

 **Adieu~**


	2. Chapter 1

Kakashi hefted a breath and looked over the apartment. Everything looked in order—surface level, at least. It was meticulously clean. Kakashi was a meticulous person, once upon a time, and he was trying to live up to his nineteen-year-old self's standards. It was the least he could do to retain some sort of normalcy and keep people from asking questions. Lord Hokage already noticed a change in him, not that that could be helped; the Kakashi of that time never would have went to the Hokage to discuss the adoption of the jinchuuriki in the first place. It never crossed his mind. The Uzumaki boy was never much a part of his life, not until everything took a southern turn and suddenly Uzumaki was _there_ , whether he liked it or not, and the world burned to ash at his fingertips.

Kakashi was coming to find that he was a gloomy old man. Probably not the best default state to be in when raising a hellion brat with four times his chakra.

There was something very seriously wrong with this picture that he refused to acknowledge.

It took time and careful planning to get to where he was now. Kakashi was well trusted by the Hokage, but broaching the topic of adopting the jinchuuriki was not just a matter of trust; it was much bigger than that. The jinchuuriki was a source of power and security for the village, even if, as it stood, the child was five and completely unaware of his burden. There would always be concern that Kakashi's aim was possession of the nine-tails and the control that came with the jinchuuriki's favour. Even if Lord Third never believed that, there was no doubt the advisors did. Lord Third must have fought day and night with those two.

More than that, though, the Hokage loved the boy. Uzumaki was the son of Minato, of the Fourth Hokage. He was Minato and Kushina's lineage, their legacy, their hero. There was a time when Kakashi believed that, too—that Naruto Uzumaki saved the village, containing all of the horrors of that day within his tiny body. The memory was faded and tarnished, but it was there, ever present at the back of his thoughts.

The Hokage loved the fox child. It wasn't feasible for a man in his position to raise a newborn, or a toddler, or even a young brat. With no one else stepping up to the task, the child found his only remaining support within an orphanage that didn't want him. Now Kakashi was making the choice that no one ever would, and Lord Third approved. There was a smile when Kakashi made his plea. The Hokage was happy, but there was hesitance, too, knowing that he would be giving care of the boy he watched grow up to someone else.

For whatever reason, everything worked out.

Kakashi gave the living room a cursory glance, then shuffled down the hall, pushing open the door to the kid's bedroom. Boxes were stacked in the corner—only two, only the fox brat's things from the orphanage. Apart from that, Lord Hiruzen provided them with an assortment of things because, quite honestly, Kakashi didn't know the first thing about children, didn't know the first thing about _raising_ children, and this entire plan banked on that not being the case. Everything in the room was all mismatched colours, bright and loud and obnoxious. There was a tiny child-sized bed in the corner (Kakashi thought the kid would have done fine with a futon and, when he said as much, the Hokage gave him a _look_ , so bed it was) and a blue bookcase beneath the window. Then, over on the other wall, there was a closet. Tiny clothes were housed within.

Once a day Kakashi would make the realization that he was really doing this. It didn't come with panic or worry, not really. If he could keep himself alive, he could care for a small human. The needs were the same, more or less.

It came with resignation. And, beneath that, determination. Because he would get through this. He would, and everything he came from would be erased.

This was his last mission. He would see it through no matter what.

There was a knock at the door, just two even taps, and he sighed. He set the small box in his hands down on the bed—a housewarming gift for the fox brat from Lord Third—and dragged himself back out into the hall.

Before he could get to the door, there came another knock. Louder, persistent, the continuous bang of a weak fist against the wood. If he was a betting man, he would have bet everything he had on who that was.

The door creaked open. Kakashi poked his head out and glared dully at the runt he found there, Naruto's neck craned up and face all sunshine bright with grins and giggles. He looked up, finding the matron standing there behind her charge with a genuine smile. Of course she was happy; she was passing on her burden.

"I fully intended on picking him up." Obligatory greetings weren't Kakashi's thing, so he skipped them altogether.

Her smile widened and she placed an ushering hand on Naruto's back. "Oh, it was no trouble at all." Not for her, anyway. "Naruto was just so excited to see you again. He's been talking about you nonstop since your last visit."

"I'm sure he has."

Kakashi believed that, at least. But he knew better than to trust her sympathies. She brought Naruto to him to drop her burden on someone else, impatient. That was fine. That just meant that Kakashi had less time to ruminate his choices in life.

He glanced back at the bouncing child, who was watching him as though his hair was made of starlight, and sighed. The door pushed open, enough for his new baggage to slip through. "Inside."

Naruto let out a high-pitched squeal and ran in. His footsteps faded quick and he was already down the hall with his shoes thrown off.

The matron folded her hands together, her back straight with unwarranted pride. "I hope he settles well. If you have any concerns, send word and I'll help in any way I can. Otherwise, I'll be back after two weeks to check on how your transition is going."

Kakashi made a noncommittal noise and followed her with his eye as she descended the steps on the outer landing. Then she was gone, and he was alone, and he slipped back inside. The door clicked shut behind him.

It was quiet. Now, Kakashi did not know anything about children, but he _did_ know that 'quiet' was not a thing that they did well. He waited, feeling the corrosive chakra bounding around through the walls like jarred lightning. _Let's see_. It settled in the bathroom. Kakashi ducked his head around the corner to see the door ajar. Then the chakra halted like a stopped train, flickering and wavering in place, and he waited. And waited.

Waiting with Naruto was not something he felt comfortable doing.

Against his better judgement, Kakashi nudged the bathroom door open with his toes. Naruto was there half-hanging out the window, his legs kicking wildly in the air with noises of delight muffled by the window pane. Kakashi took two quick strides and hooked his finger around the collar of Naruto's shirt, pulling him back inside. Naruto landed with a plop in the bathtub, all laughter and flailing, sitting on his haunches.

Kakashi stared. He was not equipped to deal with this. "Naruto," he started flatly, bringing the boy out of his own little world, "what were you doing?"

"Lookin' outside," said Naruto. Pushing the point, he hopped to his feets and climbed the wall again. His arms hooked over the sill, feet braced against the tiled wall. This time he didn't look like he was about to fall out, at least. There was something abnormal about those reflexes in a boy that small. "We're so high!"

"This is the third floor," Kakashi pointed.

"I can see _everything_ ," Naruto continued, completely ignoring Kakashi's interjection. "The _whole village_."

"You cannot see the whole village."

"Most o' it!"

"No."

Naruto craned his neck to look over his shoulder, fixing his new caretaker with a pout. Apparently that took the fun out of everything because Naruto hopped back down and landed deftly on his feet.

Kakashi shut the bathroom door—locked it, though he expected the little hellion to figure _that_ out pretty quickly—and shoved a hand into his pocket as he headed back into the hall. Naruto followed without needing to be asked, looking up at Kakashi with big, wondering eyes.

Kakashi pointed to the door directly across from the bathroom, "Your room," then to the one beside it, "mine. Off-limits."

"'Kay!"

He then pointed to the opening at the end of the wall, past the front entrance. "Living room. Kitchen's connected."

"'Kaaaay."

Kakashi eyed the boy. Naruto was fidgeting. He was _always_ fidgeting, apparently. Always needing to move, to do something, to keep his body from keeping still. Like he had energy to burn for days. It was a sign of bad things to come.

"Can I go now?" Naruto whined, tapping his feet in a mock run.

"One more thing." Kakashi leaned over the boy, casting shadows across his tanned face and blue eyes and pale hair. Kakashi smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. "Break anything and I break you. Understand?"

Naruto looked very, very small as he shrank back and swallowed, his hands finding the hem of his shirt. He nodded.

"Good." The smile fell away to nothing and he leaned out of the fox-child's personal bubble. "You're dismissed."

Naruto hedged away, scooting step by step across the hall before flinging his bedroom door open and running inside. There were noises of wonder and excitement soon to follow, as though the threat was never issued. Well, the kid was quick to bounce back, if nothing else. Kakashi wasn't sure what he expected.

It felt… _odd_ , to leave the nine-tails jinchuuriki unsupervised in his house. There was a niggling voice at the back of his head that pulled at him to check, to peek through the door and just make _sure_ , but he smothered it beneath the knowledge that for better or worse this would be his norm and he needed to accept that. If he suffocated the Uzumaki boy, he only risked a repeat of what happened in the world that he came from.

He admittedly didn't know much about the boy's life, or how Uzumaki went from Konoha's only jinchuuriki to the missing-nin that brought its downfall. Kakashi had been on the jinchuuriki retrieval team for a time, serving as leader to the team of ANBU specially chosen to deal with the runaway, but that was a mission and he kept personal qualities to himself. It wasn't as though, in the middle of combat, he could ask for a full rundown of all of the hell spawn's choices in life. Kakashi knew going into this that he was going in blind. There were no hints at what stressors took Uzumaki down the path of ruination at twenty-eight; Kakashi could only observe and think for himself. That was fine. No matter how much guesswork was involved, that was fine.

It was fine because it had to be. It was fine because they were out of options.

Kakashi realized that he was still standing in the hallway like a lost deer and sighed, dragging his feet into the living room. His book rested forgotten on the coffee table, and beside it was a small bundle of papers with cursive black ink drawing lines across them. He sunk down into the couch, picked up his pen, and resumed his work.

Kakashi knew that if he wanted this to work, he needed to take the initiative to _make_ it work. Creating a timeline of events was his first aim at that. He had already finished mapping out the important events of his initial timeline on the first page and was now on the second. Initially, the plan was to return to the time _before_ the nine-tailed fox's attack on the village. Any time before that, really. His aim then was to keep Obito from attacking through whatever means necessary. No Obito, no broken seal. No broken seal, no attack. No attack, no bastard hellion fox-child to unleash his fury upon the world.

He always knew that using Kamui wouldn't be exact. He was prepared for that.

Kakashi was not prepared to wake up in a hospital bed, nineteen years old, with Tenzo sitting in the bedside chair making wooden sculptures to pass the time that he was asleep. According to his teammate, he blacked out during a mission. Went completely catatonic, just like that. No warning, no build-up.

Then, to find out he was four and a half years too late, Kakashi had a lot of thinking to do.

This was all he came up with.

He crossed out one line and circled the next. Observation was key over the next few weeks. He would need to spend time with the kid, to learn what made Naruto tick. What set him off. What inspired him. _Anything_. And once he had all of that, he could work towards correcting it all.

Kakashi's pen hovered over the third page—a list of his observations thus far. He tapped the pen to the page, the ink pooling and spreading out like water from the tip, and he remembered an ugly room and a crayon sky and a tiny hand with stubby fingers bathed in sin that could never be washed away.

 _Goal: Hokage._

His eye narrowed on the words. That was an old wish, one of an untouched timeline. A dream in its purest form from before Kakashi ever intervened.

 _Did you once want to be Hokage, too, Menma?_

"Um…"

Kakashi's head snapped up and he quickly slipped the pages beneath the cover of his book, only to realize belatedly that Naruto wouldn't yet be all that adept at reading. Sometimes he forgot that not every child graduated the academy at five years old.

Naruto stood there, his body twisting left to right from where his feet were rooted to the floor, eyes downcast to a fixed point on his shoe. In his hands he held a box—the Hokage's gift to him. The wrapping paper was torn off, likely making a mess of the bedroom floor, and between two fingers rested a folded up note. Naruto maneuvered the box, tucking it beneath one arm and holding out the note with the other.

Kakashi blinked slowly. "You can't read it, so you want me to read it for you, is that it?"

"I can so read!" Naruto shouted, huffing his insult, but the bravado faltered and it was obvious that this boy was a liar. "I um. I just wanna make sure you can. An' stuff."

"Right. Of course." Kakashi wriggled his fingers and waited for the paper to be deposited onto his palm. From there, he unfolded it, wincing internally when he saw the hard to make out characters of the Hokage's writing. It was legible, at least to him. Lord Third could write very neatly in a formal setting, but personal letters tended to take on a more… _abstract_ style. Even if the boy could read, he wouldn't be able to read _that_. Kakashi skimmed the letter lazily. "Lord Third sends his regards."

When he looked up, he found the fox child fixing him under a pointed glare.

" _Read it_!" Naruto demanded, and then his eyes widened and he backpedalled. "Um um um. Please?"

Kakashi rolled his eye heavenward and begged Obito to give him strength.

He cleared his throat. "Naruto," he started, taking on a very half-hearted Hokage voice. "It is with joy in my heart that I am able to see you with a family of your own. This world is hard on you, I know. And I am sorry for that. But I hope this will be the start of something more for you. Be better, my boy. Do not hate this world for what it has put you through. Be better and prove yourself to it. Show the world that it has no choice but to acknowledge you. I eagerly await that day. Until then—"

Kakashi narrowed his eyes on the latter section of the letter.

Naruto was bouncing in place, something implacable etched into the lines of his face as he awaited the rest. When it didn't come, he frowned. "What? What what what? What's it say?"

 _"Until then, look after this young fool for me. I fear that he needs you more than he realizes."_

Kakashi's mouth twitched and he skipped to the line below. "Until then," he continued, because he didn't want the boy to notice that something was omitted, "I hope this can help you through the hard parts of this transition. Stay strong, Naruto."

Kakashi dropped the note onto the coffee table and sunk into the back of the couch, his eye lifting back up to Naruto—

There was a moment before Naruto hid his face behind his sleeve where Kakashi caught the glossy film over his eyes. It was over as soon as he noticed, and then the boy was tearing through the box. The cardboard hit the floor and Naruto held up the plush toad at an arm's length, blinked at it, and then smiled and ran off with his new companion in tow.

Kakashi watched him go. Silence returned, the world was still, and for a moment he felt the weight on his shoulders ease up, and he could breathe.

The moment was short and over when he heard the very distinguished sound of shattering glass followed by a low, unaffected, "Oops."

As it turned out, raising a child was not as simple as dropping them into a home and letting them fend for themselves, especially when the child was five and loud and made it his personal mission to seek out each and every sharp object in the apartment like a metal detector. Kakashi did not know many things about this venture, but he was pretty sure that small children were not well equipped to handle professional ninja tools. This, in part, was why he did not allow his young charge to enter his bedroom where all of his weapons were stored away safely in the left half of the closet.

To Naruto, 'off-limits' meant 'enter, but _sneakily_.'

Kakashi stood in the doorway of his darkened bedroom, backlit by the ebbing light of the lamp in the hall. Naruto sat on all fours in the middle of the floor with two dozen makibishi spikes scattered at his feet and a broken picture frame by his hand. He ducked his head under the dull glare Kakashi sent his way, looking very much like a bristled fox kit.

"I didn't do it!"

Kakashi's eye crinkled into a hollow smile. "Of course not," he said lightly. "They must have jumped out on their own."

Naruto averted his eyes, wearing his guilt on his sleeve. Then, suddenly, "I'm hungry."

"Then eat," said Kakashi. "After you clean your mess."

Naruto whined, _loudly_ , but didn't otherwise complain as he reached over to the pouch the spikes were kept in, left discarded on the floor, and started depositing the makibishi inside one by one. Something about his compliance made it very obvious that he was used to getting scolded. Kakashi placed no trust in Naruto, especially after he disregarded instruction _five minutes after leaving the room_ , and leaned against the wall to supervise as Naruto picked up each and every spike.

Naruto winced and pulled his hand back. There was red, a small drop of blood sliding down the line of his finger before he put the tip in his mouth, brows furrowed and face tight.

Kakashi sighed, pushing off the wall to kneel beside him with a waiting hand. "Let me see."

Naruto hesitated. He looked between Kakashi's open palm and face, back and forth, before holding out his hand. "It hurts."

"I guessed that."

Kakashi turned the boy's hand in his own, squeezed it slightly to see a pinprick of blood ooze out from the tip of Naruto's index finger. Before he could do anything, he watched the edges of the cut stitch themselves back together. Suddenly it was gone, and Naruto was fine, like nothing ever happened.

If there was any doubt that this child was the Menma Uzumaki of twenty-three years from now, it was gone.

Kakashi smeared away the blood with a heavy breath and nodded to the door. "Get cleaned up."

"But I gotta clean my mess."

He rolled his eye. There were only two spikes left, anyway. "Get going."

Naruto didn't need to be told twice—or, well, he _did_ , all things considered—and hopped to his feet, running out of the room. Steps faded, and soon there was the distant hiss of the bathroom tap.

Kakashi snatched up the pouch and put the last of the makibishi inside, then snapped it shut. He considered the pouch as he rose to his full height and padded over to the open closet door, wondering where his younger self picked those up. They weren't a tool he regularly used, but then again, he had a lot of tools stocked and ready in the off chance that he would need them. Most hadn't seen the light of day since first acquired. Well, until Naruto got ahold of them, apparently.

He needed a lock, if not for his bedroom then for his closet.

With his luck, the fox would just find a way to blow it up.

The closet door slid shut and he cast a gaze across the mostly-vacant expanse of his bedroom. He picked up the shattered frame, slid the picture free from behind the glass, and disposed of the broken glass. He could replace it when he next went to the market, no harm done.

When reworking his plans, he made sure to move apartments. There were too many nightmares looming over his old home like phantoms of the past, too many nights as a young boy waking up in a fit of sweat and hysteria, scrubbing long-gone blood from his hands at the kitchen tap. When he moved, he only took the necessities—furniture and tools. Useful things. Practical things. That was what his nineteen-year-old self would have done.

There was one picture that he couldn't part with, though.

Age made him sentimental.

When he dragged himself back out, he found that Naruto was gone from the bathroom. A little further and Kakashi could see the boy kicking his legs back and forth on a chair at the kitchen table, waiting. Patient. Expectant.

Kakashi did not like this.

"Thought you were hungry," he hedged.

Naruto nodded. "Mhmm!"

Oh.

He shifted his weight to fully face the fox-brat. "You can't cook?"

Naruto's face scrunched up. "That's the grown-up's job."

"Ah."

Somehow, Kakashi knew that he wouldn't be able to just throw the child into a new environment and say 'have at it.' He knew, but still he hoped.

Kakashi rummaged through the cupboards and then placed a bowl before the kid, washing his hands of the whole ordeal. Well, that was one crisis averted, except Naruto was making this face like he was displeased, and Sage, Kakashi wanted it to just be over and done with so that he could go into the other room, work on his notes, and keep a comfortable three feet between them for the rest of the night.

Naruto took one of the objects within the bowl between his fingers and eyed it critically. "...What are these?"

"Food pills."

"Gross."

Kakashi closed his eye and pulled back, trying to remember what he was like at that age. He couldn't. He couldn't because by that age he was already biting back his complaints and training to be a shinobi like his father.

Naruto shoved the bowl away to show what he thought of _that_ meal, then slammed his hands down on the table with a grin. "Hey hey hey—" He squirmed in place, as though he couldn't wait to share the groundbreaking idea with the world. "Let's get ramen!"

"No."

"But—"

Kakashi slid the bowl back to Naruto and watched the boy with a half-lidded eye. "Eat."

Naruto sank back in his chair, stared vacantly at the food pills, and sulked.

Kakashi was fine with that. He left for the living room, returned to his notes, and figured that the fox-brat would eat when he was hungry enough. He shuffled the pages, located the third, and tapped the back of his pen against the table as he thought. _Observations_ …

Kakashi looked across the room to the kitchen where Naruto sat all sloped shoulders and pouting. The kid looked like he'd just been kneed in the kidney. All because of food? Then his stomach growled, and he wrapped his hands around himself.

He caught Kakashi staring.

Kakashi turned back to his papers. But now he could feel eyes on him, watching. Waiting. He put his pen to paper and scrawled out another line.

 _Surprisingly manipulative._

He slipped his papers between the pages of his book again and slammed it shut, rising from the couch, looking all kinds of put out.

"Shoes on. Now."

Like a lightswitch, the sulking vanished behind a grin. Naruto pumped his fist with muttered triumph, slid off the chair, and scampered over to the front door. There was a chant of "Ramen, ramen, ramen!" as he fought with his shoes. The moment they were on, he was bounding down the landing steps, and Kakashi was fairly certain that he only waited for his caretaker at all because he didn't know the way by himself.

This little hellion would bleed him dry if he let it.

* * *

"Pork ramen!" Naruto cheered. The old man heading the stall smiled at him. It was a genuine smile, a simple amusement in the wrinkles of the man's eyes before he turned his back to them and got to work on their order.

It threw Naruto off. He blinked, the grin fell off his face, and suddenly he was all kinds of shy. He curled inward, staring at the wooden top of the ramen bar, squirming and giggling to himself like a fool.

Kakashi watched him, taking the seat to his right. It was quiet, save the rustlings sounds of the kitchen and Naruto's audible excitement. He looked genuinely, wholly content. From ramen.

Then the bowl was set before him and he was breaking his chopsticks and saying his thanks. He made to eat, but before his chopsticks touched the bowl he stopped, craning his head to the right, gawking openly at the empty space before Kakashi. Their eyes met. Naruto's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Where's yours?"

Kakashi considered this, dropping his chin into his palm. "I'm not having any."

"But why?" Naruto though hard while looking down into his bowl. "Is it 'cause you dun got money?"

"No, Naruto," he sighed. "You wouldn't be here if that were the case."

"Oh." But he remained unconvinced. Suddenly there was a bowl being shoved Kakashi's way, tiny hands grabbing his, giving him the unused chopsticks and closing his fingers around them. "You gotta have some, too, 'kay?"

Whenever he looked at that child he was forty-two again. There was sulphur in the air, masking the scent of pine and ash. Across the valley stood a man bathed in red chakra, pulsing corrosive energy across his skin with Konoha in the backdrop, greyed out by the swell of smoke and embers carried on the high winds. The world was grey, and that man was twenty-eight.

This boy was five, and he was sharing his ramen.

Kakashi sucked in a breath, set the chopsticks down, and hesitantly dropped his hand atop the boy's head. He smiled, even though the boy could not see his smile, and slid the bowl of ramen back to where it belonged.

"Eat," he said.

Naruto pouted, a strange mix of emotion etched across his face, and he ate. He ate so much, in fact, that in under ten minutes he was batting his eyelashes with an empty bowl. Kakashi wasn't sure it was the right move, but he indulged, at least for today. He needed the boy to _like_ him, didn't he? That was as good a way as any to curry favor with the nine-tails jinchuuriki. Probably.

A part of him thought that bribing a small child with food was not a wholesome way to garner trust. A larger part just did not care.

Three bowls later and Naruto was full and leaning against him, and it felt all sorts of wrong but he allowed it.

"Thanks, um," Naruto hedged, "Dad?"

Kakashi twitched, suddenly very fixated on the leaning, and nudged Naruto off him. "No," he corrected flatly. "Not that."

"Then um," Naruto shifted, unperturbed by the sudden invisible wall Kakashi placed between them, "what do I call you?"

Kakashi hummed, bringing his hands together to press against his lips, his eyes on the three empty bowls stacked high between them. Where did he put all of that? He must have eaten his body weight in ramen. "Kakashi."

"But you adopted me."

"Kakashi," he repeated, only because Hatake sounded too formal. They were playing the part of a family now, after all.

Naruto was having none of it, though, drumming his fingers along the bartop. And then he stilled. Grinned. His eyes squeezed shut and he hid a laugh behind his hand conspiratorially. "Thanks, big brother Kashi."

He didn't know how that was supposed to make him feel. Probably not like this, he surmised, and raised his eye heavenward.

* * *

Naruto slept with a nightlight. This was news to Kakashi because, as far as he knew, there was nothing of note in the documents he had been given. The orphanage supplied him with all of Naruto's medical records, his personal history, his lineage and notes from the caretakers. Or, well, it was _supposed_ to come with notes from the caretakers. That page was conveniently missing from the care package neatly supplied within the manilla folder labeled 'Naruto Uzumaki' from the matron.

So when night came and the lights went out, he was none too pleased to find the fox child hanging off his pant leg with grubby fingers and big, pleading eyes and a worrying lip.

"You're scared."

Naruto bristled and pried himself away. "Am not!"

Sage, let him make it through the night.

Kakashi cocked his head to the side with feigned ignorance. "No? Then good night, Naruto."

He made to leave but then small hands were there, as predicted, trying with feeble strength to keep him there.

"And here I thought you weren't scared."

Naruto bit his lip and bowed his head. His grip loosened before releasing Kakashi all together. There was a tremble to his lips. He took a cautious glance across the dark expanse of the room, long shadows cast across his toys, the only relief found in the moonlight that filtered through the window. He said nothing.

Kakashi prayed for Obito to give him strength. He dipped out into the hall and flicked on the lamp, chasing away the darkness with its orange glow.

"Better?"

Naruto blinked up at him, then cast a glance back into the room now lit in a soft gradient of light, and he grinned.

Crisis number five-hundred averted, and it was only night one. "Get some sleep. We have an early morning."

"'Kay!"

Kakashi left the door ajar and retreated to his room. He left his door open a crack, just so that he could hear if his charge went on a midnight wander, and lowered himself onto the mattress. The photo from before was there, resting on his nightstand where he'd left it, and he snatched it up. Three young faces stared back at him. Rin was the only one among genin that was smiling. Then there Minato was above them, the ever-present mediator. Looking back, Kakashi felt his fair share of guilt for what they put that man through. He never had an easy day between the two of them.

Every time he viewed that picture his eye would ultimately fall to Obito and he would wonder. He wondered how things would have turned out, had they tried to dig him out of the rubble that day. He wondered what would have changed if Kakashi accepted his friendship sooner.

On October 10th, five years ago, Obito Uchiha died in the the nine-tails attack, by the hand of the Fourth Hokage. Kakashi could only imagine how heavy that weighed on Minato's mind as he sealed the fox into his newborn son, as he took his few last breaths, smiling at his wife. Smiling at his child. The world crumbling at his feet.

Kakashi wondered a lot of things, none of them good.

The picture was set back down on the nightstand, his headband following soon after, and the light flickered out. He closed his eyes, bundled beneath a thick comforter that bit back the autumn chill, and slept.

For all of ten seconds.

The door creaked open and his hand was already on the shuriken by his bed when a wobbly runt of muted colours padded across the floor. Naruto had his plush toad hugged tightly to his chest, a pillow dangling from his fingers, brows knitted together, and he glanced around apprehensively.

"...Kashi?"

Sage, let him make it through the night.

"You asleep, Kashi?"

Obito, give him patience.

Kakashi sat up, the comforter pooling in his lap as he observed the small hell-beast at the foot up of the bed. "You should be sleeping," he said, and his tone only emphasized _'go to sleep.'_

Naruto padded over and clambered onto the bed without a moment's hesitance. He deposited the pillow beside him, making himself comfortable, little feet dangling over the side. "I'm gonna sleep here, 'kay?"

No, that was very much not okay. In no timeline or universe or reality would that ever be okay. He bottled that up behind indifference and leaned forward, his arms on his legs. "Why?"

"Somethin' keeps scratchin' on the window, Kashi!" Naruto pleaded, worrying the toad's little felt arm between his fingers. "I think you have gremlins."

"The wind, Naruto," Kakashi said.

"Nu-uh. It was all tap-tap-tap."

Kakashi pointed to the window of this room, to the way it rattled against the breeze, and watched understanding dawn on Naruto's face.

"Oh." Then Naruto laughed, fluffed his pillow, and settled in.

"Naruto." The boy looked up with innocence. " _Out_."

Naruto ducked his head, smoothed out the blankets around him, but didn't move. Before Kakashi could chastise him, he sucked in a breath and blurted out a hurried, "It's scary, y'know!"

There was something about the way Naruto said those words that reminded him so much of Kushina.

"'Cause—" Naruto hiccuped. Oh no. Tears. Kakashi didn't know what he'd done to deserve _that_ but this day was long enough already without waterworks. "'Cause what if I wake up an' can't find you?"

"I'm right down the hall," he said softly.

"But what if you're not?"

"I will be."

"But _what if you're not_?"

It was quiet, broken by the rattle of the window and the howling gusts just beyond. The bedroom was a hue of muted greys and blues casting long shadows in the corners. Naruto's hair looked grey in the dark, his skin a pale white. He never looked up at Kakashi, never tried to meet him head on. Not like earlier. Not like when he almost fell out the window, or snuck into the room. Not like when he sent manipulative looks Kakashi's way.

Kakashi did not grow up in an orphanage. Kakashi grew up with a father, and then grew up alone. When he thought of what it must have been like for Naruto to go through life shunned by the world at large, he could understand, to some extent. But when it came to the environment, he had no experience to compare it to. He struggled to find sympathy within himself, too, knowing just what this boy grew up to do.

But for all that he was bias, he made a promise to _try_.

This boy was not twenty-eight. This boy was five.

And he was nineteen.

"Only tonight."

Those blue eyes found him then, lit up like starlight, and he knew that he did something right. Suddenly Naruto lunged at him, flailing arms locked around his chest, and it took all of his self-control not to flinch.

"Thank you thank you _thank you_ , Kashi!"

Kakashi awkwardly patted Naruto's back, not entirely sure what else to do with his hands. He was grateful when Naruto shimmied away rather than force the contact to linger.

Naruto settled at the end of the bed, curled around his pillow, looking very much like a wild fox, and Kakashi resigned himself to it.

His first night was one without sleep.

* * *

 **Adieu~**


End file.
